Much to be Desired
by RandomSugarRush
Summary: After declining Emmett and Jasper's invitation for a night out, Edward faces a life altering decision when a harmless prank goes awry. Will he risk everything for a life of crime if it means he can save another life? Canon, AH AU RATED M for adult themes.


**Much to be Desired**

**A/N: **Come one, come all! to this tragic affair…

Welcome my pretties! Since my other fics have gotten ZERO reviews for new chapters, I decided to get off my prude stick and give you a fic that's a little darker, a little sexier and has a lot more "French" so to speak…

What say you? Bring on the sex, drugs, corrupt cops, haunted music, dirty lawyers and Mafia?

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><p><strong>IntroChapter One**

**EPOV**

The first thing you need to know about me is my name and my past. It's the only thing that I'm sure of in this crazy, fucked up thing that I call life. I'm not even sure of my age anymore, but since I was born in nineteen eighty eight, I'd assume that I'm turning twenty four this year. So, I'll introduce myself as Edward Anthony Masen.

I was born in Chicago to Edward and Elizabeth Masen. My father was a lawyer – a good one at that – and my mother was a secretary at the firm that my father owned. I was born into wealth, yes, but I'm somewhat the modest type, unless you ride my fucking nerves and try to act like you're better off. Really rub it in my face and I'll let you know just how filthy rich I am.

In my last year at high school, right before graduation, my whole life turned upside-down. I went home one afternoon, hoping to get my homework done for once, to find that half the fucking house was gone. The whole estate was covered in soot and rubble, bricks from the hundred year old structure, and the gates wrapped in police tape. I flew into a panic when I saw the fucking ambulances that took my parents to the morgue.

At the end of the day, the only thing I really knew was that a gas leak had ignited and blown up the house and I was now left with no fucking family to speak of; no grandparents, no aunts, uncles or cousins. Even our fucking cat was blown to bits.

After that, I went to live with the Cullens so that I at least had a bit of support for the last few months of high school. I'll owe them for the rest of my fucking life for that shit, they kept me grounded, stopped my life from falling apart completely – I was that fucking grateful to them. I'd known Dr Carlisle and his wife Esme for most of my life, as they were close family friends of my parents. I was quite close to their children, too – Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper (all a year older than me) and scrawny little Alice (the same age as me and in the same classes at school) – all adopted. I remember my parents and I went with them when they went to stay at their home in Forks, Washington for the summer when I was about eight years old. I remember that trip like it was yesterday, especially (for some fucked up reason) a girl no younger than myself tripping and falling flat on her face when my mother and I went to the general store (I surprised my mother with how I acted that day, helping instead of laughing – mom called me her little gentleman and I fucking loved that shit). I ended up spending much of the summer with that girl. I never knew what became of her though.

Anyway, Alice and I had a brief fling when we were thirteen – before Jasper joined their family two years later (and became the fucking love of her life) – but we were only together for a few months. At the time, we knew it wouldn't turn into anything serious, but remained close friends after that. She was unsurprisingly the most compassionate about the whole shit involving my parents' deaths, and often listened to my ranting when my emotions – especially anger – needed a fucking release.

When I turned eighteen, I was told that I'd inherited my parent's belongings. I had no fucking clue that anything survived that explosion, so that was a shock. All I expected was their bank balance.

Amongst the shit that I inherited, was the whole fucking contents of my bedroom. It didn't fucking dawn on me that only half the house was destroyed and the east side of the house with my bedroom was merely shook up a little. Why the fuck I didn't get my belongings right after the explosion, beats me, since it was already mine, but I asked Carlisle and he told me exactly what he'd been told – though the official report said the incident was accidental, they hadn't ruled it out as a crime scene and whatever was left standing at the time, was evidence.

I didn't care. I was just morbidly overjoyed that my fucking piano was intact. It was an upright heap of shit, but I'd been playing on that thing since I could walk.

As soon as I finished high school, Carlisle and Esme announced that they were moving back to Forks permanently. They gave me a choice – I could go with them, or I could stay in Chicago and make a life for myself. Though I detested the constant wet weather, I chose to go with them, and get away from the place that would only constantly remind me of the hit I'd taken to my fucking heart.

So, I helped pack up some shit – nothing huge, just boxes of personal belongings and suitcases of clothing – the Cullens weren't selling the house and Emmett and Rosalie were to use it while they were at college. Almost everything remained behind, as their house in Forks was already fully furnished. The hardest fucking sacrifice I'd made in my life at that point was leaving my fucking piano.

Seems like a walk in the fucking park right now.

I wasn't in Forks for long. I stayed for the summer, but with an extra push from Carlisle, I sent off an application to College in Seattle. I was sure as fuck surprised that they accepted it so late, but with my school grades (which weren't bad, I was good at the shit without trying) and the added letter of recommendation that Carlisle wrote for me, definitely boosted my chances. I fucking owe Carlisle for that. He didn't even tell me he'd done it at the time. I fucking found out when the admission board called me to let me know I'd been accepted. I was pretty fucking surprised. I'd already sent off two letters of recommendation from the music teachers from high school with my portfolio, so I guess three made a good fucking impression.

I didn't go to study music – I'd decided long ago that I didn't need them to tell me I knew how to play a fucking piano, you don't need that shit when you're born with a gift, especially a goddamn piece of paper – I went to study film. Or rather, the sound editing, design and soundtrack portion of film – the actual film making part was just an added bonus. I had fuck all experience in film, but they seemed to see some potential in me, so I thought 'what the hell', and gave it a go.

Needless to say, it opened my fucking eyes to a world I never knew existed. I had no fucking idea that so much effort went into making a movie, and the shit we were making at college only ran for twenty minutes tops, I couldn't imagine how much work it would take for a fucking full-length feature film. Still, I kept at it and realised that I could make a career out of what I was doing. I excelled at sound editing and design of course, and the other students were offering me fucking money for some of the compositions I'd written during high school, just so they had a decent soundtrack for their projects. But there was no fucking way I was handing over that shit. Even if I were living on the street with no fucking money to speak of, they weren't getting my music – partly because the shit I wrote back in high school was exactly that – shit; mediocre compared to Debussy, Mozart or even fucking John Williams. Nothing I ever wrote met that standard. I could _play_ their music fine, but writing shit was a lot harder than just sitting down at an instrument with paper and playing random notes to see what fit well together. No, these guys heard their fucking melodies in their heads _then_ put it to paper. They probably didn't even need the instrument. They could write the melody, harmony and bass without playing a single fucking note.

I'd just graduated from college when Carlisle gave me the news. Since I'd just turned twenty one, I'd inherited the final thing my father had left for me – the law firm (actually, half of… my father gave half to me and half to another good friend of his, William Barker, in his will) – a fucking law firm that I had no idea how to run. What the hell was I going to do with that? I didn't take after my father in the slightest and I had absolutely no interest in becoming a fucking lawyer. I knew lawyers were crooked, I don't doubt for a second that my father had duped a few clients in his time, and that shit didn't sit well with me. The only thing I could think of was to sell up.

_Masen Lawyers_ became _Barker & Sons_.

I figured that if my father could trust the guy, so could I. So, I did some digging, found out how much the place was worth total, and sold it to William for half that sum. He was happy, I was happy and Carlisle was fucking proud for some reason, which I pinned to making such a grown-up decision, rather than thinking he had some ulterior motive, which would just mean I was fucking paranoid.

I threw myself into work after that. Small jobs, enough to give me something to do during the day, but I was still fucking busy; the pay was crap, but I didn't need money, hell, I already had enough to last me until I was eighty. I didn't care and nor did Carlisle and Esme, as long as I was happy.

The only complication I had with life at this time was that I fucking missed my friends. I made new ones of course, but they couldn't replace Alice, Emmett or Jasper. Fuck, even Rosalie. Emmett had gone to college on a football scholarship and was now the coach for a high school team at some private school in Chicago. He also coached other sports on the side, but football was his main focus. Rosalie, Miss "Make Me Break a Nail and I'll Kick Your Sorry Ass", opened her own fucking garage of all things – for detailing only – a _Pimp My Ride_ kind of operation. She was fucking good at it too. I went to Forks for a week and she installed a hi-tech stereo into my Volvo for my birthday in less than a fucking hour. It was so complicated that I had to read the manual to learn how to turn the fucking thing on. The bitch laughed her ass off watching me do it, too.

Jasper was currently working his way up to becoming a Civil War historian – like he wasn't already a fucking expert at the shit. Since I'd first met him, it was clear that his interest in the Civil War was verging on obsession. Nobody could beat the fucker at chess – he claimed that all of his strategies came from that fucking war.

Alice was more successful than all of us put together. She pulled the unexpected, as usual, and threw herself into the fucking stock market. She could predict the trends in marketing better than the weatherman could predict rain in Forks, and that's fucking saying something. Then on the side, she made her own designer label (Mary Alice) for kicks. Not only did she specialise in women's clothing, but she also has a line of men's suits that I'd fucking sleep in, they're so comfortable (which she promptly altered the label name to M.A. Cullen). I happened to need one for Emmett and Rosalie's wedding; I don't think Rosalie would've been very fucking pleased if I rocked up in a jeans and t-shirt ensemble, but I would've had it not been for Alice forcing me into one of her suits for the first time.

So, that _almost_ brings us to where my life is at now.

This part of the story is fucking crucial. Without this part, there is no now. If this part didn't happen, I would not be right here, facing the hardest fucking decision since leaving my fucking piano behind in Chicago – a decision that is infinitely more serious than a sick emotional bond to an inanimate object.

**_x~x~x~x~x~x~x_**

_**~September 13**__**th~**_

I'd had the shittiest day at work to date. First I was late, due to the fucking traffic, then when I finally arrived at work I was greeted by the new receptionist (some satanic freak wearing magenta contacts and black lipstick – I felt compelled to tell her that Halloween wasn't for another goddamn month and a half), then I found out that I'd be working on a feature film – a three hour bitch that forces you to go for a bathroom break halfway through – and I had only two weeks to come up with the whole fucking score ready to record.

So imagine my irritation when I found out that Jasper had breezed into town for a Civil War recreation demonstration. He and Emmett were trying to convince me to go out with them to some new dive that had just opened up. Adamant as they were, and as much as I would have liked to catch up with Jasper, I just couldn't fucking do it.

I'd been working on scores for about five hours straight since arriving home from work at five thirty when I heard a knock at the door. I took a drag on the last of my cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray, then moved to open the door, thinking that it would just be Emmett and Jasper stopping by before heading to the club. They were likely to try to convince me to go with them again.

When I opened the door though, there stood five foot four of absolute fucking goddess; blonde, subtle curves running along her slender frame and smelling like expensive perfume. Her classy blue dress set off her creamy skin nicely and her stiletto heels accentuating the curve of her legs, adding extra length. I fucking almost wolf whistled.

"Are you lost?" I asked.

"That depends," she replied with a smirk. "Are you Mr Masen? Because if you are, your friends have sent you a gift for the night."

"What kind of gift? What friends?"

"Hale? Cullen? They thought you should have some fun since you wouldn't go out with them tonight." She stepped, uninvited, into my apartment. "Mind if I come in?"

"This can't be going anywhere fucking good," I mumbled.

"Oh honey, trust me… a night with me is _always_ good. You might want to close the door. Unless you don't mind having an audience?" She removed a pin from her hair and it shimmered gold as it cascaded down around her face and her back. She shook it lightly and ran her fingers through it. She turned away from me to drop the pin onto the coffee table.

I closed the door, not entirely sure what the fuck was going on.

She turned to face me again. "Excellent."

"Care to tell me why I just let a fucking stranger into my house?" I asked her. She made a _tsk_ noise and stepped closer, lifting her hands to my shoulders.

"You're so tense. Relax, you're in good hands. And I come completely paid for in advance. You don't have to worry about a thing." She'd spoken that last part in a whisper and so close that I could feel her breath hot on my ear. Then her fucking teeth were scraping gently against my earlobe.

It fucking clicked then. The reason she was here…

"Don't lie to me – are you a fucking hooker?"

"So harsh." That smirk was back again. "But no, I'm not a filthy prostitute who was picked up off a street corner. I'm an escort. Clean, classy and I _always_ use protection. Never mistake the two." She reached out and pulled me closer with my tie. "Now tell me, Mr Masen… what do you like?" She leaned in and her face was within inches of mine.

Then I noticed her eyes…

_I was suddenly staring at a memory._

_A summer with the Cullens…_

_A grocer store…_

She was leaning in closer.

_My mother, Elizabeth…_

I could feel her breath; see her eyes flick from mine to my lips.

_A pretty girl who'd fallen over her own two feet…_

Fuck. Me.

"Bella?"

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><p><strong>AN: **Oh! Oh! Cliffhanger?

And what of a playlist as I normally do? Sorry doves… this one's up to you. Find something dark and sexy and let me know what you chose by clicking that button below…


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